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When You Burn A Forest Part 5/fem

(Disclaimer Alert: This story has been fictionalized to a certain degree. The real events are only known to the parties directly involved.)

The look on her face was unmistakable. Eyes lightly glazed over with pinhole pupils and mildly disheveled. I had seen that same expression of complacent blankness on others I had known before. No visible injuries on her person so that was good. No matter how she appeared though she was always the great love of my life. “Jævla koldt ut, ja?” “Fryser du?” I said in my trash Norwegian/Danish. Ahh so many winter words you learn right away. “Yeah it’s cold outside.” she replied. She scraped her boots off on our carpet and staggered in a few steps. “Here darlin’ sit down and get warm. You want some tea?” “Yeah please.” I headed for the kitchen and put the kettle on. In mid stride and turning my head to see her, I noticed she was stumbling a bit. The thought had flashed through my mind. I shook my head a second in disbelief. The kettle was activated. The immense bubbling noise that it generated was near deafening.

She had taken off her coat and nestled down on the sofa. Sniffling incessantly, the alarms were starting sounding. Still though, how could she? It was cold outside but our room as well as our collective flat was raging with warmth. Still holding my suspicions behind me, we both sat on the couch watching television. Slurring slightly her speech, she also began to doze off frequently. Working around the clock on different schedules, she would often take power naps at all hours. I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Where the fuck did you go?” “ I juss wenn downtown.” I stood up immediately. “What did you do?” “Nothing.” she replied. My pulse had sky rocketed. It felt as if my heart was already breaking down our room mate’s wall across the room. She got up and headed for our toilet.

A mental panic had washed over me and sent me into a great state confusion. Alright I had a couple of minutes to cool off and pull myself together. As I sat again on the sofa I began to think of all my friends I had buried in the past. 1 in particular.

A confidant that was a real brother to me who had died before he could reach the age of 21. That dealt a crushing blow to a lot of us who loved him. I continue to this day have flashbacks of him almost every day. Tears were welling up in my eyes just imagining him. A few years after his burial there was a dream in which I was at a party and I had carefully manifest him. It was my first ever lucid dream. I awoke crying needless to say after hugging him tightly.

10 minutes had passed. The sink was running still. She never liked anyone to hear her on the toilet, so always the sink ran full throttle. This was too long however. Getting up and knocking on the door, there was no answer at first. Seconds passed and then I could hear here whisper “Hold on.”

The Cardiac dysrhythmia of my heart came back. I paced around in the corridor. I went for a quick cigarette in the kitchen. Turning on the oven fan, it drowned out the sound of the bathroom sink. Studying the oven vents and grime and grease stains on them, soothed my mind even though a massive confrontation was brewing. If seeking a future prediction in front of Zantar and then receiving the fortune, it would have popped out and read exactly like this: SHITSTORM. Coming from the middle of another country, inclement weather was often foreseeable and we were automatically born with a special preparedness. Not for this kind of weather. Absolutely abhorring violence and not a fan of killing anything, this was going to be perplexing to do without raising my voice. The door knob turned slowly.

She stumbled out lackidaisically and started swaying like a person who had way too much. There was no smell of booze though, obviously. Just a faint smell I couldn’t put my finger on. It was familiar though it had not graced my nostrils in many years. Like a discontinued incense you would find at a benzine station with those sketchy glass pipes almost. Rising out of the chair nervously stubbing out the fimpa, I followed her into the room. “What is going on?” I inquired in my softest and most caring voice that could be mustered. Her bleached hair looked like a straw mess obscuring her face partially. I charged into the toilet and discovered a black bag that usually dangled from the towel rack on the floor.

This bag came from Ikea and was meant to hold clothes. It was a satin type material with a drawstring at the top. It had been hanging there for a while undisturbed. It didn’t seem to have a purpose until now. Feeling the bag from the outside, there was what felt like a metal oval object:concave and having a round upward tilted stem. There was also a small 7 centimeter, cylindrical,tubular, plastic object ending with a small tip. After reviewing the shapes of these items in my mind. I could imagine only one thing. My worst fears and suspicions had just been undeniably confirmed.

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